


Cling

by Cardinal_Daughter



Category: Hellsing
Genre: Angst, Desperation, Dry Humping, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Jealousy, Smut, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 21:49:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13062840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cardinal_Daughter/pseuds/Cardinal_Daughter
Summary: They taste and taste, until finally, they devour.Or, a series of moments and firsts between Integra Hellsing and Alucard.





	Cling

It begins when she is twelve; she is covered in blood, clinging to life and hope the way the reek of death clings to the air.

She has just seen to her uncle’s murder. She has just seen to her survival.

Her eyes are wide in shock, but it is not directed at him. Her eyes are locked on her uncle’s corpse, and only when the creature next to her speaks does she look away to meet his gaze. He asks her name. She asks for his.

“Your father called me Alucard.”

“My name is Integra.”

He can tell she is her father’s daughter, because she holds out her hand to him boldly, intent on shaking it. He grins, wide and wicked and all pointed teeth, and takes her hand in his.

It’s the first touch he’s felt in a long time.

He sends her upstairs while he disposes of the body. When finished he finds her- follows the scent of blood- to see her shirt hanging open as she dabs at her shoulder with a damp rag, wearing a grim expression. The medical kit beside her is open, things tossed around haphazardly as she tries to stop the bleeding.

“Allow me, my master,” he says, approaching her and gently taking the stained cloth from her trembling fingers.

“Master,” she repeats, biting back a gasp as Alucard takes the medical tweezers and touches them to her shoulder. She is clearly unused to pain but is trying to be brave. “Father said you would be my salvation.”

He laughs softly at that, which earns him a sharp glare from ice blue eyes. “An ironic statement, to say the least,” he muses, “But you are here; your uncle is not. Perhaps your father was right.”

“He always was,” Integra says and the sorrow in her voice is as fresh as the blood trickling down her arm. Alucard resists the temptation to steal a taste.

“Tell me about him,” Alucard requests. Integra blinks.

“You knew him.”

“But not as you did,” he says, “I’m certain we have vastly different ideas of the man. Now, my little master, please.”

She understands what he’s doing: distracting her while he tends to the wound. So she begins to speak, talking of a man who adored her and was determined to do the right thing. Who loved her and raised her to be his true heir. She doesn’t cry at his memory, but she does wince when the bullet fragment is pulled from her flesh. She whimpers and her hand flies out, grasping for anything to help offset the pain.

Alucard gives her his bloodied hand.

“All over,” he soothes, reaching for the antiseptic and bandage with his free hand. Her hand squeezes his again, purposely, and he stops.

“You shouldn’t let my blood go to waste,” she whispers through fresh tears. Alucard’s brow raises, and he dares not immediately take her up on the offer, lest this be a test. When he doesn’t move she looks up at him. “I don’t mind. I'm sure it's been a long time since you last had something to drink.”

Slowly, as if fearful he might be struck, he leans down, long tongue stretching forward to lap at the blood on her arm. She flinches and he draws back, questioning.

“It tickles,” she admits with a flush.

Amused, he returns to his task of lapping up her blood, her tiny hand still squeezing his gloved one as he drinks.

  


XxXxX

 

The first time he holds her, she is still wearing black and mourning her father.

Alucard is reunited with Walter a few days after his awakening. He remembers the man with a slight semblance of respect, and knows any other opinion he may have will fall to the wayside as they have one very important thing in common:

_Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing._

“I was sent away,” Walter explains as he fixes Integra’s tea one evening, a week after his return. “I think her father knew she would find you. I think he suspected his brother of treachery. I think he wanted you awake.”

“I cannot begin to fathom _why_.”

“Why indeed,” Walter agrees, stirring the cup before placing it on the tray. He turns to make his way upstairs, but Alucard rises, head turned away as if something has caught his attention. He lifts a hand to stop the butler.

“She’s crying.”

Walter tenses. “She has bad days. Naturally. She loved her father tremendously.”

Alucard nods and plucks the cup from the tray. “Let me talk to her,” he says, and Walter steps back with a bow. He doesn’t know Alucard very well beyond his skill as a formidable fighter on the battlefield all those years ago, but he knows that the vampire will not do Integra harm.

Phasing into her room, Alucard sees her seated on the edge of her bed, sniffling and wiping at her nose in an undignified manner. She seems to notice his presence within moments, for she stiffens and looks away.

“It’s rude to enter a girl’s room without knocking first.”

“Apologies, Master,” he replies as he moves to the bed. He places the cup on the night stand and steps back, waiting for her dismissal or further remarks. She looks up at him and sighs.

“I may order you to do anything I wish?”

He nods. “You need only say the word, my master, and it shall be done.”

He seems eager, in some way, to do her bidding. It's a sense of duty she feels unprepared to handle at the moment, so she merely pats the seat beside her and says with quiet authority, "Sit with me."

A wicked smile grows on his lips until all she can see are sharp teeth, and he moves with a lanky grace to sit beside her, a fraction of an inch between them.

"And now?"

She wants her father back; but she cannot order this creature to fulfill that wish. She wants to stop hearing the echo of a gunshot; wants to forget the sight of blood and flesh splattering on the walls and floor of the dungeon. Wants to stop feeling the cool metal of a gun in her hand, the slight recoil from where it fires burned into her palm.

She shouldn't, but she wants to hide away from the world to process her grief and her shock and her confusion.

“I don’t know,” she whispers, broken and uncertain.

"Then may I be so bold?" He whispers from her side, and though she does not know what he wants, she feels inclined to be generous and so wordlessly nods her head.

A moment later she is in his lap, enveloped in wiry, strong arms, a pointed chin resting on the top of her head. She hesitates only a moment before curling into him, arms winding around him as the tears come with even less hesitation.

He does not shush her. Does not coddle or coo or promise her everything will be alright. He merely holds her for some time until her tears fade into short dry sobs, then silence. Her breathing eventually steadies and he thinks she might have fallen asleep, but then he feels her hand playing with the edge of his cravat, and knows she's merely biding her time. Arthur had been sick for some time, he recalls Walter telling him. How long has it been since anyone has held her?

Eventually she scoots off his lap and smooths out her skirt. Alucard lets her go willingly and moves to kneel before her. Boldly he reaches up and wipes the last stray tears from her eyes and says, "May I ask three things of you, Master?”

She nods. 

“First,” he says, and as he pulls his hand away from her, he notices that she leans after it, as if desperate for contact. “Never let anyone else see you cry."

She sniffles almost on instinct, nods once, and does not cry anymore. "And the second?"

"Fear not; for so long as I am your sword and shield, your enemies shall never lay a hand on you again."

She smiles. It's soft and barely visible, but it's there.

“The third?”

He reaches over and hands her the tea cup. “Drink your tea.”

She takes the cup from him and takes a long drink. When she finishes, she sets the cup aside and reaches out to take his hand. “Thank you,” she tells him, and he sees in her eyes that she is no longer afraid.

 

xXxXx

 

The Twelve are outraged.

Sir Penwood has already met with her and Walter, and had been impressed enough with her to offer his support in her remaining the head of the Hellsing Organization.

Some of the other members are not so easily convinced.

Integra is still twelve, and has the weight of the world on her small shoulders. But she stands up straight- in front of her father’s chair as she can't bring herself to sit in it just yet- and tells the men before her that she is more than capable of running the organization that is in her name, her heart, her _blood_.

“You cannot protect yourself!” One of them declares. “We understand the manor has bodyguards and employes soldiers, but we cannot spare extra expense to protect you from our many enemies!”

“Like my uncle?” She dead pans. The men know what happened. Know she killed him. Know she wasn't alone in that dungeon but they don't speak of that. Not unless they have to.

“Miss Hellsing,” another man begins, but is cut off by a soft voice dripping with danger. Alucard appears out of the shadows and steps up behind his master, towering over her and leering venomously at the men seated at the table. They all wear varying shades of fear, save for Sir Penwood, who is not a brave fellow but all the same understands and accepts that he will answer to a young girl who has a sorrowful countenance and her father's eyes.

“My master can defend herself,” Alucard says, his voice a whisper that blows through the room and chills bones. “And should the occasion arise that she needs assistance,” he laughs, dark and deadly, “Then I shall be more than happy to serve. She shall never be safer than when in my presence.”

The men glance at each other, each willing another to speak up to the vampire. Finally Sir Penwood realizes _he_ will have to be the brave one and stands.

“I understand the reservations from table,” he says, “But I think we should hear what Miss Hellsing has to say.” He turns to the girl covered in a vampire’s shadow and asks, “My dear. What do you think we should do regarding your security?”

“I think,” Integra says slowly, weighing her thoughts and ensuring her words are clear and spoken with authority. “We will operate as we did when my father was head. Nothing need change from our daily operations. I am a nationally ranked fencer, have trained for several years in a variety of martial arts, and Alucard and Walter will further teach me marksmanship and swordsmanship. I may be young-” and here she feels Alucard place his hand on her shoulder, emboldening her. She stands a little straighter, lifts her chin a little higher, and declares, “But I am a Hellsing! And I did not take this position with the same ease others before me have. I have _fought_ for my right to sit at the head of this table. I will need guidance,” she admits, “But I watched my father. I know what this position will demand of me. And I am _more than willing_ to dedicate my life to serving God, the Queen, my country, and Hellsing itself!”

Alucard’s approving laughter echoes her declaration, and the men unanimously vote to instate Integra Hellsing as their new head and heart.

 

xXx

 

When the meeting ends and she has made enough small talk with several of the members, she retreats to her father's office. Shutting the door, she turns and pressed her back to it, hands covering her mouth as she feels the rush of adrenaline flow through her. It had been so thrilling! So exuberant! She had commanded the room, demanded their loyalty, and had not backed down.  
  
"I can do this," she whispers, a declaration and revelation.  
  
"Of course you can."

Alucard appears before her, and falls to one knee. "Oh, my Master. What poise, what ferocity! You bring me delight no one else can, my master Integra!" He reaches up and takes her hand in hers. Her eyes lock onto their joined hands, hers warm and clammy from her nerves and exhilaration, his shockingly cold even through the fabric of his gloves. "You shall bring our enemies to their knees," he praises, lips pressing to her knuckles, and where his hands are cold, his lips are warm. "I shall take great pleasure in spilling their blood at your feet!"  
  
Integra's face grows hot, and she gently pulls her hand away from him. "Yes," she says, feeling uncertain and embarrassed and overwhelmed, "See that you do.”

  
"Oh I shall, my Master," he purrs, keeping his distance, but Integra still feels the cold comfort of his hand. "And I shall never forget your very first triumph over those fools. You shall be a force to be reckoned with. I can tell."  
  
She revels in his praise and clutches her hands together, thinking hers are a little too warm.

 

xXxXx

 

She rewards him for the first time when she's thirteen.

He's just come back from an assignment- a report of a few stray vampires in the north- and he dealt with them with wicked delight. As a monster, he thrills on such destruction of the wickedness that threatens the world. As a servant, bound by magic and his own desire, he greatly hopes to please his master.

He phases into the office around four in the morning, unsurprised to find Integra asleep at the desk. Her glasses are crooked, smashed against her face from where one arm cushions her head, the other arm draped over a small mountain of paperwork. Her eyes are scrunched, evidence of an unpleasant dream.

He knows she has frequent nightmares. But she doesn't say a word and he knows she has too much pride for him to say anything. She's trying desperately to prove her worth, and he will not treat her like a child. She is far from a child, even if her age says otherwise.

He approaches the desk and kneels down, pressing a cold hand to her arm. “Good morning, my master.”

She stirs, groans, and wearily opens her eyes. “Oh.”

She sits rod straight and straightens her glasses. She has a red mark on her nose from where the silicone nose piece pressed into her skin. Alucard finds it endearing.

“I have finished my assignment, Master,” he croons from his place before her. “Shall I tell you all about it?”

She shakes her head. “You may tell me this evening,” she says softly. “I confess I'm a little tired.”

“Waiting up for your humble servant’s return?” He teases, and doesn't miss the blush that confirms his suspicion. “My master is too good to me.”

“Yes, well,” she says, crossing her arms and glaring at him over her glasses, “I wanted to make sure you returned home in a timely manner.”

He will not insult her by teasing her over the fact that she clearly worried for him. He resists a laugh. As if he were the one at risk! Instead he offers her his hand, intending to lead her to her room before he retreats to his coffin. She takes it, lets him pull her to her feet before she tugs on that hand to make him stop.

“I've been thinking.”

He grins.

“You may be my servant-” it's clear she is not yet comfortable with that word, the way her voice softens when she says it, as if it were a slur she does not want to be caught saying. “But it hardly seems fair that you receive nothing in return for your service.”

“Your approval is reward enough, master,” he purrs, voice almost sinister. He could ask for more. Wants to ask for more. But he dare not. He recognizes a good thing when he has it, and his little master is not cruel and overbearing like her father had been on occasion.

“I'm sure.” Her voice is dry; she doesn't believe him. “But surely there is something else I could do to thank you.” She pauses, then adds softly, “I feel a great desire to show you my deepest appreciation for what you've done.”

“Then my master,” he sinks to his knees, still holding her hand in his, “A drink would be the greatest reward.”

She blinks. “A drink?” She blinks again and when her eyes open, they are wide in understanding. “Oh! Yes of course.”

Releasing his hand, she turns, looking on the desk for something, then picks up her father’s ivory letter opener. It had been a gift from the queen some years ago. She looks at the blade, then to her hand, then to Alucard, who is brimming with unabashed glee at the prospect.

She moves the blade to her finger- idly choosing the left ring finger that she's already decided will remain bare- and slices the skin. She winces a little as she does it, but says nothing and holds out her hand above him. “With my gratitude.”

“Oh, Master,” he purrs, and Integra feels a shiver slide up her spine. He stretches out his tongue to catch the first drop, groaning in pleasure as the sweetness spreads over his tongue. She tilts her hand so the blood flows down faster, but it's too slow for her liking. He can only catch droplets as they dangle teasingly on the tip of her finger, and she finds herself growing impatient.

“Take my finger,” she says at length, “But stop when I tell you to. Understand?”

He nods, then grabs her hand and draws her finger into his mouth and _sucks_.

Integra watches, fascinated, as he drinks from her finger. It's a strange sensation, she thinks, to be so aware of the beating of her heart and the pulse and feeling of blood leaving her with each beat. Alucard continues to drink, and she doesn't know how much blood she's losing, but she feels some strange pride and accomplishment from having her servant on his knees before her, partaking in something she freely offered. She feels empowered.

Finally she feels herself grow a little light-headed and gently pulls her hand from him. “Enough,” she says gently, and only when she feels his hands upon her arms does she realize she’s sunk into her father’s chair, and the room is spinning.

She feels her hand being lifted, and a wet sensation. She registers that he's licked her finger, and when he releases her hand a moment later, she sees the wound has sealed. It will scar, but it's sealed.

“My master is too good to me,” he praises her as he lifts her in his arms and carries her to her room. “To bestow such a delicious gift to her humble servant.”

“Don't get used to it,” she murmurs. “I can't drain myself to feed you after every mission. I'll shrivel up before I'm fifteen.”

He laughs at that, dark and delighted. “Oh no master,” he says as he deposits her on her bed. “A treat such as that should be savored, like the finest wine. A delicacy reserved for only special occasions.”

She nods in agreement, then falls unconscious.

 

xXxXx

 

She is fourteen when he dances with her for the first time.

She is seated at the desk working on homework in between reading reports and answering phone calls when Walter enters with a letter.

“From Her Majesty.”

Integra has met the queen on more than one occasion, and likes her immensely. She thinks she wants to be like her when she's older: calm, cool, and completely in control. She sees the respect Alucard holds for the woman as well, and wants to earn that same respect from him- because he actually respects her, and not because he is bound to her.

Integra opens the letter and Alucard is instantly hovering behind her, invading her personal space, a usual occurrence of late.

Integra's blood runs hot and she's grateful for the chill his presence provides.

She reads the letter, then tilts her head back to look at Alucard, who his grinning down at her with teeth exposed and a laugh in his throat.

“A knighthood?”

“My master _is_ head of the Knights of the Round Table. She should be a knight.”

Integra looks to Walter for further confirmation. He nods once. “It might make your peers take you more seriously, with a title,” he says sagely, “Though I fear nothing will ever be enough for some.”

“Then they are truly fools,” Alucard says dismissively. “This is a great honor, my master. Dame Integra Hellsing.”

Integra looks down at the letter again, crisp and fine, the embossed logo of the queen shimmering in the dim candlelight of the room. Integra's eyes do not adjust well to light- a trait that had made Alucard laugh madly when the doctor confirmed her sensitivity to bright light.

"Blue eyes tend to be more sensitive," she'd been told.

It was an ironic twist of fate, was more like it.

“Sir.”

“Hmm?”  She can hear the amusement in Alucard’s voice. She looks up at Walter and ignores the vampire.

“I want to be called ‘Sir’.”

Walter has a look about him that hints he doesn’t think it will happen, but bows his head in agreement nonetheless.

“I’ll convey your gratitude and request to the queen.”

Surprisingly, the queen acquiesces.

The day of the celebration comes, one month later, and Integra is escorted by Alucard into the throne room, Walter trailing close behind. The queen smiles at the trio as they bow, and gives Alucard a wicked look. She bids Integra forward, in front of the crowd of people there to mingle and dance- the knighthood was the main event of the Queen’s Autumn Ball, and all the attendants were interested to see the young woman be knighted.

Integra steps forward and the queen approaches. “Bow, Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing.”

She takes a breath and bows. Feels the heavy coolness of a blade touch her shoulders.

“Arise, _Sir_ Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing.”

A whisper spreads through the crowd at the title.

_Did the queen say the wrong thing?_

_Maybe we misheard?_

At that, the queen orders the band to begin playing, and some guests begin dancing while others approach the young woman to question her.

“I _am_ Sir Integra,” she corrects them all with a saintly patience she knows she will have to cultivate for the future. “Like my father before me.”

She doesn’t explain herself when asked why; doesn’t owe it to any of them. Eventually she tires of people asking her why she is a _sir_ and moves to the drink table, wishing she could go home and change out of her dress. It was lovely, to be sure; maroon with long sleeves and a high collar, fitted tightly at the waist before flaring out around her. She feels foolish, but pretty. She isn't used to feeling pretty. There isn't much time to worry about such things.

“You look rather contemplative.”

Integra looks over to see Alucard beside her. He’s an ever present shadow, and she thinks his lingering presence is what’s kept her from receiving any invitations to dance. Not that she minds. None of the young men here interest her, and the only person she’s ever danced with besides her father is Walter- but they always end up stepping on each other’s toes and she becomes so amused that she can barely take another step.

“Shall we dance, my master, _Sir_ Integra?”

“Eager to make the other guests uncomfortable?”

“Perhaps I wish to share a dance with Sir Integra on the day of her knighthood.”

The reason doesn’t really matter, she supposes. So she lets him escort her to the ballroom and begins leading her in a waltz.

“I suppose you would have to know how to dance,” she muses as he leads her quite expertly around the room. Others stare at them in surprise and take steps to make way for the young knight and her vampire.

“And why wouldn’t I know how to dance?” He questions her, “It’s a lovely way to pass the time.”

His hands are cool against her skin. She can feel him through his gloves and the fabric of her dress. One hand holds her steadily at her upper back, the other cups her hand that is gently laid atop his. He is much taller than her so she must crane her neck back to look up at him, but he moves with an ease and a grace that is so unlike her father’s warm embrace and Walter’s fumbling steps. He leads with practiced ease, and Integra thinks he must move about his entire un-life this way because he never once looks away from her to ensure where they are going. He simply knows the path and leads her on it.

She finds herself agreeing with his statement. Perhaps she should dance more often.

With him.

A moment later Alucard stops and she looks over her shoulder to scowl at the person who has caused their waltz to be interrupted, but keeps the look in check when she sees the petite frame of the queen standing before them.

“Your majesty,” they say in unison, Alucard tipping his head as Integra half-curtsies, half-bows while in Alucard’s embrace.

“I wondered if I might cut in,” she says sweetly. “It’s been a long while since I’ve had the opportunity to dance with Alucard.”

“Of course,” Integra says politely as she steps aside, instantly feeling the absence of Alucard’s touch as the warmth of the room instantly chases away the chill. Integra hides a frown and moves off the dance floor. She finds a seat out of the way and watches as the queen and Alucard move into another dance, and ponders at just why she suddenly wishes ill upon the queen.

Alucard is _her_ vampire. The queen should get her own.

 

xXxXx

 

She is sixteen, and Alucard catches her trying on his clothing.

He teases her, and though her cheeks burn as red as his coat, she does not look away. She does not fumble and make excuses. She does not apologize.

"So why does my master sneak into my room to wear my clothing?"

"I don't want to wear skirts anymore. And your attire is quite attractive.”

"Oh?" His eyes light up. "If your skirts bother you so, I will gladly do away with the offending garments," he sleazes, inching closer to his master. She pulls her shoulders back.

"I want to be taken seriously."

He stops. Sobers. Understands.

"And you think dressing like a man will accomplish that goal?"

Integra shrugs, once. It's an elegant movement even if the gesture itself is lazy and unlike her. It's an appropriate response to a question to which she has no real answer.

"Clothing is inconsequential," he replies dismissively. "If you wish to parade around in trousers, then so you should."

"I will not be parading anywhere."

"No," he agrees. "You are far too good for that."

He walks over to her and takes the waist of the pant in his hands, tugging them from her own grip. They're a few inches too wide and far too long on her, and he holds them up from behind, turning her to stare in the mirror that hangs in his room. She tilts her head one way; he to the other.

"They aren't very flattering," she muses.

"No."

"But I've noticed men staring at me," she says, taking the extra expanse of fabric in her hand and turning to face Alucard, whose now empty hand falls to the side. "I dislike it. I'm not an object to be admired."

"You are admirable, my master, and not just for your beauty.  Though I agree I do not approve of others staring at you with impure thoughts."

Integra sniffs. "You're the most guilty of them all."

He leers. "But unlike them, I value you for far more than your appearance.”

She knows he's right. She doesn't mind that he leers at her either. She hates when others do it, but Alucard is the only person she's ever felt comfortable with, even when he makes his rude remarks and gestures. She will never admit to it, but they are almost endearing.

"They would respect me if I were a man."

"A foolish notion," Alucard scoffs. "You are more capable than the lot of them, male or not.”

"I know," she says, fist tightening in frustration. "But because I have breasts and nothing dangling between my legs, they think I'm incapable. It's maddening!"

"I could castrate them," he offers with a sinister grin. "Even the playing field."

He's surprised when she doesn't immediately dismiss the idea. Instead she turns back to the mirror and studies herself.

"They cannot ogle what they cannot see."

"They will try."

A smirk that matches his earlier grin flashes across her face. "Then I'll order you to tear out their eyes instead."

Alucard laughs, his eyes alight at the prospective gore. "Yes, my Master!"

Though she cannot see him in the mirror, she gives him a half smile, then resumes studying herself. Alucard's presence hovers over her. "A suit jacket, too, I think," he tells her at length. "But keep your hair long." He runs his hands through the tresses with reckless abandon and she does not pull away. "Avert their attention but do not let them forget who it is that they serve! You may wear men's suits and be called 'sir', but never let them forget who you are underneath this armor you don. You are Integra Hellsing, _daughter_ of Arthur Hellsing, and my master. The rightful head of Hellsing!"

His hands squeeze her shoulders and she stares at her reflection with pride shining in her eyes.

"Yes I am."

She buys a new wardrobe of suits.

She dons her suit for the first time prior to a meeting with the Twelve. After a moment of deliberation, she allows Alucard to curl the ends of her hair.

 

xXxXx

 

She is eighteen and curious. He is depraved and eager.

She finished her schooling months ago- she is far too intelligent for her own good, Walter says, and has some of the highest marks in the country. Alucard expected no less of her.

She does not bother with university. She has too much to do, too much to oversee to bother with such a right of passage, and when asked about missing out on such a thing, Integra tells Alucard with certainty, "I've no need for such drivel. I have a mission. A calling. Serving Queen and Country is what I want to do."

"Such trivial things are beneath you," Alucard agrees from where he lounges in her large wingback chair. "Especially when you have a servant such as myself to do your bidding."

Integra makes a soft sound at that; an acknowledgment that she's heard him and nothing more. She's pensive, clearly distracted by some thought he is not privy to, and if Alucard is anything, he is curious.

"What preoccupies my master's thoughts? If not the triviality of your contemporaries, then...?"

He trails off, leaving room and space for her answer even as he closes the between them. He does not press against her, but he is close, and he can feel the warmth that radiates off her.

She does not turn from where she stands, looking out over her own small kingdom.

"Another triviality," she ventures at last.

"Oh?"

"In novels," she begins, "There is great fuss over kissing. I confess I am curious as to why it is written about with such fervor and obsession."

Alucard delights in the turn of this conversation.

"And here I thought my master was above such things," he remarks, hands ghosting over her arms, not touching but tantalizingly close. "But it seems that she is indeed a girl at heart, if her thoughts drift to kissing boys."

She stiffens, but not from his proximity. "I do not think of kissing _boys_ ," she stresses the word as she round-abouts to face her servant. "Even if I did, there are no boys here, are there?"

"Nor would I allow there to be," he tells her seriously. "All that is here is your faithful servant."

She looks up at him. Despite her now towering height, he still looms over her. He's always towered over her and Integra thinks no matter how large she becomes, Alucard will be higher, taller, bigger, her protector even as she commands armies and slays enemies.

"Then I suppose you'll have to do."

She hesitates only a moment, then in a very Integra-like fashion, makes her choice and clutches it in vice-like claws. Similarly, she clasps Alucard's lapels in her hands and presses her lips to his.

Alucard's eyes widen, not from surprise of the action - he's long sensed this coming- but from surprise at how right it feels. His hands rest on her hips, and he tilts his head to take control of the kiss, to show his master how it's done.

He taught her to shoot. He taught her about his history. He taught her to stand tall against men who did not appreciate her and how to cut them down to size.

He'll gladly teach her everything she ever wants to know.

He begins to want more- always more, always more of her- and slides one hand around to the small of her back and presses her closer. He is not physically aroused- he has not consumed blood recently enough to allow for that- but he feels it in his still heart, in his veins and in his soul. He _wants_.

She seems to understand, and she pulls away, moving him to arms length. She's panting, breathless from a kiss she should never have wanted. Her cheeks burn, and her lips are shiny and swollen. She stares at him like he's a puzzle she can't solve, then clears her throat and turns back to look out the window once more.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," she decides at length.

He curls upon her like mist. "Then perhaps next time we can try something more-" he presses a hand to her lower abdomen, not inappropriate or invading, but making his intentions clear- "Stimulating."

She whirls around to reprimand him, but he's gone, an echoing laugh the only proof he was ever even there.

Sagging against the window, Integra presses a hand to her heart, and tries to ignore the fact that the rapid-fire beating isn't out of fear or anger, but rather excitement.

 

xXxXx

 

She is twenty-one and they are both starving.

Ever since the kiss in her office three years prior, something changed.

She knows, because it's her job to know. But she doesn't acknowledge it because to acknowledge it means to bring it to light. And she and Alucard function much better in the darkness.

If Walter knows, he says nothing, so Integra takes that to mean he doesn't know. He would speak up if he did.

They aren't romantic. It's not a fairy-tale romance where they profess their love and hug and kiss and vow to be each other's eternal love. She has no desire for that.

But he does touch her. And she finds that she craves the contact with growing ferocity.

Other than Alucard, Walter has only held her a handful of times. Her father used to hug her; hold her hand. Kiss her temple. But in those last years there were no hugs and few kisses. And she grew used to the absence.

But then Alucard.

Always, _always_ , Alucard.

He touches her at every opportunity when alone. In front of others, he'll offer his arm as if he were a gentleman and she a lady, and she revels in the astonished looks from the Twelve or the guests at court who know who Alucard is.

It's proper and intentional and makes it clear that nothing will come between master and servant.

But alone.

Alone he takes her hand in his- something he's done from the beginning. He lingers close to her. He brushes against her and invades her space and glides gloved fingers up and down her arm as he begs for an order, a command. He lets his lips linger close to her ear when he reports back and tells her all the vile and inhumane ways he destroyed their enemies.

He runs his fingers through her hair as she reads and writes reports. He pulls her to him when she is deep in thought at her window, and asks her to let him in.

At first, Integra wonders why he touches her so much. More importantly, she wonders why she lets him. Why she encourages it. He is her servant; she should not allow him to be so close. But he steps through her carefully constructed barriers with the same ease that he walks through walls, and while she grows annoyed at him for the latter sometimes, she doesn't protest the former. It's a lonely world she's found herself in, but Alucard makes her feel a little less alone. He shouldn't; she knows she should keep him at arm's length, but-

But then he creeps into the room with those haunting eyes and sinister grin and takes hands that have ripped apart countless bodies as if they were twigs and settles them around her waist. "Master," he says, clearly overstepping his boundaries and not caring in the slightest. "I have done as you commanded."

"My loyal servant," she acknowledges, the word more comfortable on her lips now, and lifts her hands to rest on his chest. To push him away if Walter were to enter. "Tell me."

He grins, wicked and wrong, and tells her of his dirty work.

"I think," she says after a moment of debate, "That such valiant service is worthy of a reward."

His eyes shine. "My master will give me a drink?"

She has a scar on her left and right ring fingers from where she cuts and bites herself to feed him. He's come to expect it, and he lifts her left hand to press a kiss to the blessed digit that will nourish him. But, to his surprise and devilish delight, Integra does not make her finger bleed.

Instead, she bites her lip, worrying at it until she pierces the skin, and lifts up onto the balls of her feet to press a kiss to Alucard's lips.

With a groan of unabashed delight, he sweeps her into his arms, spins, and sits her on top of her desk. Drawing her lip between his teeth, he sucks, and droplets of sweet blood splatter against his tongue, causing a shiver to slide through him.

He continues alternating sucking on her lip for nourishment with kissing her senseless, and takes one hand to spread her legs apart. He steps between them and presses her closer, and this time she feels what she's doing to him. She isn't surprised. He's only just come from gorging himself on ghouls, and has blood running through his veins. Hers is merely the gasoline poured onto the flame.

"This is what you do to me, Master," he growls, lips stained red. "You rile me up so. You make me so eager to please..."

He grinds against her and Integra, true to form, only lets out a slight breath. But it's her cheeks and her eyes that give her away. Her cheeks are dark, and her eyes are alight.

"You please me greatly, servant," she replies as she kisses him again. He drinks from her, the small incision not enough but still so tantalizingly sweet. "In all things."

His hands close around her waist, hard enough to bruise, and grinds against her. "My master," he praises, "Mine."

"I belong to no one," she snaps, even as she holds onto him with the desperation of someone clinging to a cliff's edge. "You belong to me."

"Yes!" He declares, hands moving to cup the sides of her face, more bold and daring than he has a right to be. Only bold because she lets him be. "I live to serve my master Integra Hellsing! There is none who compare to you! I am yours to do with as you will, my master! Command me!"

"Alucard," she breathes in the moment before he captures her lips with his own.

"I yearn to please you," he whispers, one hand sliding down to her lower back to keep them pressed closely. The other moves to the back of her head, gloved fingers sliding through silky silver strands. "To deserve your praise. Your desire. You."

She pulls back, eyes blazing with fury. He loves her best when she is full of anger.

"You think you deserve me?" She challenges and her tone is firm but her voice shakes. She softens then, for only a moment. Only for him. "You are the only one I would consider worthy,” she admits.

A wicked grin spreads across bloody lips. "No other boys slipping into your thoughts, my master? No longing to see what a young human man might make of you?" Alucard laughs, darkly. "He couldn't handle you."

"And you can?"

His hips thrust against her, and though they are both clothed, she feels every sinful part of him and a breath escapes from the jolt of pleasure that shoots through her.

"Yes."

"I should punish you for your insubordination."

He eyes the blood droplet that has pooled on her lip. "So long as I have your attention."

He licks away the droplet.

"You take it even when I've no wish to give it."

He grins. "I take nothing that you do not freely give." He moves against her again and they both let out strangled sounds of pleasure. "And I think you enjoy giving, my generous master."

She doesn't immediately respond with words, but with a flick of her hips. "Do not presume to know what I enjoy, servant."

"Do you know yourself, my master?" He presses a hot trail of kisses over her cheek and toward her throat. Integra does not fear that he will bite her. She does not fear him.

"I know you are an irritation."

He practically purrs at that. "I can take a guess at what part of you I'm-" he leers, "Irritating."

"My nerves."

A hand lowers and idly brushes her center, and she jerks at the sensation, looking up at Alucard with thinly veiled wide-eyed wonder.

"Nerves, indeed."

"Demon."

He stops. Smirks. “If my attentions are not desired then…”

He steps back and she glares at him. When he makes no move to return to her, she slides off the desk and moves toward the exit. "Fine. If you will not finish what you started, then I have other matters that I must see to."

He swirls around her and catches her at the door. His back is pressed against it, and she against him. "I was under the impression my master did not want my assistance?" He teases. "Was I mistaken? I would be more than happy to-" his finger brushes against her and she jerks- "Lend a hand."

"Devious monster," she hisses, clutching his silken cravat and twisting. "Either do it or don't and stop wasting my time."

"Foreplay is never a waste of time, Master."

And then he spins her so her back is to the door, and his hands are upon her, and he's _touching_. Integra gasps, and her head tilts back, and the hand that isn't still gripping his cravat is thrown out, searching for something onto which she can hold. She grasps the locked door handle for purchase, but Alucard pries her hand away. "No, Master," he snaps, "If you're going to hold anything, I desire it be me."

That hand latches onto the back of his head, and she pulls him down for a searing kiss.

He moves his hand from between her legs, but before she can pull away to snap at him, he has one of her legs wrapped around his waist, and his own pressed in the space between. Integra releases the cravat, now wrinkled from her death grip, slides her hand down to his side, where she pushes him closer to her.

She's starved, desperate for friction and pressure in ways she's never sampled, but she feels as if she's broken a lifelong fast and is now free to gorge herself on the luscious feast before her. And she hungers. And she takes. Alucard gives all she demands of him, and takes pleasure in the newly reopened wound.

He sucks her blood as they press and move. He wants her naked before him; wants her spread out like a feast on her own right, one he cannot fully indulge. But he can sample; knows he will only ever sample. He knows he cannot have all of her, not while there are monsters to pursue and an enemy to destroy, but he has more than he knows he deserves.

He also knows his release will be unsatisfactory: one cannot release something that is empty. But Integra is full. Full of life and longing and desire and demanding need.

"Alucard," she breathes, and despite the look of dizzy awe on her sharp features, her voice is still soft and controlled.

"Yes, my master?"

"Is this what the fuss is all about?"

The fact that she can be fully clothed, still so innocent, yet wantonly writhing against him is overwhelming. He distantly recalls a time when he'd been innocent. And he delights that she can command him to murder demons in her name, and yet still look awestruck that something could feel so good. He presses a hot kiss to her mouth, then trails up her cheek to her ear.

"This isn't even the half of it, my master." He yanks her shirt out of her slacks and his hand is upon her breast a moment later.

He swallows her gasp like it's the sweetest wine.

"Think of it, Master," he breathes as he toys with her, the door making the softest knocking sound from where they push and press against it. "Think of my mouth on you. Here-" his thumb brushes over a nipple, "Or here." He thrusts against her. "There is so much we could do. So much we've yet to touch..."

"Oh..."

She stiffens and gasps, and sags against the door.

He lets out a soft, dark laugh at that, delighted at seeing his master undone. He knows no other has seen her so unkempt. It's positively endearing.

But then she glares once more, undoes his belt so that she can shove her hand down his pants and tugs hard once, twice-

And the tension between them is so strong, and he's so starved, that he feels the phantom throbbing of release even as no other physical proof manifests.

"Integra!" He groans as he sags against her, and she hasn't the will or energy to support his added weight, so they slide to the floor.

She takes a moment to steady her breathing, then rolls Alucard off her. She waits a moment, then turns her head to look at him. "This is quite undignified," she remarks, still a little breathless.

Alucard lets out a small laugh. "I suppose it is." He turns to regard her. "I rather enjoy seeing my master so undignified."

"I rather enjoy seeing my servant so willfully obedient."

"Master," he breathes, amused, "Follow up even the most degrading and inane command with _that_ , and I'll obey with unabashed devotion." He laughs to himself at the potential ridiculous things she could make him do. "I am many things, but I am yet still a man."

Integra laughs at that, a soft bell-chime of a sound. Not like her at all, but lovely and full of delight.

Perhaps like her a little.

"So you are," she muses as she stretches out a hand to let her fingertips rest against his.

 

xXxXx

 

She is twenty-two when he touches someone else for the first time.

He was out on assignment, one par the course, but he returns with a young, unconscious woman in his arms.

“She will need a coffin,” he says upon greeting his master. Integra eyes the bloody mess of a young woman, and her heart quickens in her chest.

“Why is she here?”

Alucard smirks as if he understands the motivation of her question, and explains.

“A whim?” Integra replies at the end of his report, the woman still lying limp in his arms. “You can be careless at times Alucard, but I've never known you to be reckless.”

“Is my master displeased that I saved a young woman's life; a woman who was diligently fighting a monster she had no hope of defeating with bravery and determination? She was a shining example of humanity,” Alucard mused, more to himself than to Integra, and she watches as his gazes leaves hers to fall upon the young woman's. “Perhaps I was moved by her will to live. Humanity as bright as hers should be preserved.”

Integra can say nothing to that, so she wordlessly moves to the phone to buzz Walter and see that a new coffin is ordered and delivered promptly. When she finishes she looks up at Alucard.

“Well you can't very well hold her like that until she awakens. Take her downstairs. Alert me the moment she wakes up. I want to see this shining beacon of humanity you seem so fond of.”

Alucard’s eyes gleam with pure delight, and he vanishes. Integra sinks to her seat. He’d never held anyone else before. Not with such reverence. Not with such gentleness. No, save the queen, his touch had been reserved for her.

Integra blinks, stunned.

_Am I...jealous?!_

She's long taken for granted that Alucard is hers. Has such confidence in him that the thought that he might want company outside of her had never once occurred to her. He always spoke of her being all he wanted, but she isn't certain that is true anymore. Does he want someone to whom he isn't already bound? Does he want a woman who isn't his master?

With a growl, Integra flings the empty tea cup off her desk and takes comfort in its shattering against the stone wall. She then breathes in and out, counts to ten, and reminds herself that her worth has never been dependent upon a man’s opinion of her, and it sure as hell isn't going to start now. Let Alucard do what he will. So long as he comes when she calls and slays their enemies in the name of Hellsing, what he does in his corner of the mansion is not her concern.

She grabs some reports to read, and pushes thoughts of Alucard and the police girl from her mind.

 

xXx

 

And then the girl wakes up. She's loud, confused, and doesn't like being a vampire. She's grateful, Integra can see that immediately, and is willing to accept her fate even if she doesn't quite like the fact that she is now a creature of the night.

But then she refuses to drink blood, and suddenly Integra sees what Alucard sees. And begrudgingly, she respects the girl’s refusal to drink in order to save her last shred of humanity.

_Her humanity is bright indeed._

Integra introduces herself, and explains that the young woman will now be in the service of Hellsing. Seras accepts with a gentle obedience, then requests permission to go back to sleep. She's hungry, but she's also weary, and thinks sleep might be what she needs to feel better. Alucard and Integra leave her, and walk in silence.

“What does my master think?”

“Only that I hope she proves worth the headache,” Integra remarks dryly, moving to take the stairs to the upper level. Down here is Alucard’s domain and she wants to be as far from him as possible at the moment.

He comes in between her and the steps. “My master worries.”

“You bite some girl and bring her here. We know nothing about her, her allegiances, her-”

His arms wrap around her waist, pressing her to him, and she growls as she allows him to pull her to him. “I think,” he begins with a sinister grin, “My master is worried that my attention will be directed elsewhere.”

“What you do outside your duties to Hellsing is of no concern to me.”

She moves to step around him, but his grip is solid and unyielding. “Do not mistake my whimsy this evening for lack of devotion to you,” he breathes, and his voice is laced with danger. “You are my Integra, as I am yours. Her humanity touched something within me, but she cannot compare to the blinding light of humanity that is my Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing.”

She meets his eyes, searching them for a hint of dishonesty. She has always been able to tell when he's lying, and he is nothing but earnest in this moment.

“I often think it would be a grand day that I meet the human who can defeat me,” he whispers, lowering his head so that his lips brush against her neck as he speaks. “Sometimes I dream that human is you. How beautiful it would be to see you old and grey, and in your last moments on this earth command me to follow after you. I would; gladly I would.”

Her arms wrap around him, clinging to him the way she once clung to hope as a child. She now knows they are one in the same.

“Sometimes I fear I am a fool,” she whispers. “That perhaps I am not fit for this.”

“There is no one else better suited,” Alucard breathes, “My master has become a true leader. One I am proud to serve,” he pauses and leers, “In _all_ ways.”

She kisses him then, needing the weight of him on her like air. He responds eagerly, lips devouring in a kiss that is neither gentle not romantic, but necessary. She is rough with him, and he with her, and they stumble into one of the other bedrooms on the lower level, the door hardly shut before she is pressed against it, the doorknob digging into her backside.

“My master,” he breathes against her, relishing in her hard and heavy breaths, “Let me serve you.”

She grips the lapels of his jacket and crushes her lips to him, heart leaping and breath hitching when her suit jacket and shirt are carelessly ripped open so that his hands can cup her breasts. “I once spoke of placing kisses here,” he growled against her, then bends his head to do just that. For all that they tease and kiss and touch one another,  Integra is hardly used to such blatant affection, and her vision goes dark as her world collapses until the only sensation is _Alucard_.

When she feels that same tension building up within her as before, she pulls Alucard up to kiss him again in an effort to prolong the feeling. She doesn't want this to end; needs this strange sense of normalcy that has developed between them. Needs the comfort of having the deadliest weapons in her arsenal used upon herself.

“You could command me not to feel anything for the girl,” he whispers against her, hand moving down to tease her over her suit pants. “Order me to love only you. But you wouldn't,” he pauses his ministrations to lock eyes with her and she revels in how beautiful he is. “Would you?”

“I trust you,” she breathes, hands moving to cup his face. “I was weak for doubting. I should never question our devotion to one another.”

“You will never need to,” he agrees, pressing hot kisses against her lips, cheek, and neck. “I am eternally yours; by my own desire, my Integra, I am ever and only yours.”

That he chooses her, despite the magic that forces them to be in one another’s life stirs something within Integra and she presses a kiss to his lips, this one soft and full of emotion.

“I love you.”

She meets his gaze, watches as her words sink in. She has always loved him in one way or another, but has never had the courage to voice it. Now she does, and she watches as his eyes slide shut as he is overcome. For once in their lives, the moment between them is tenuous and fragile, and she knows it will change them from here on out.

His eyes open, full and bright and sincere. “Oh my Countess. And I you.”

She reaches for him, starving for more of him. He complies, equally hungry for her, and they devour one another, clothing being pulled and tugged and pushed out of the way as they frantically strive to be closer to one another. Emotional barriers have been stripped away this night; she has revealed the deepest and most secret part of herself and he in turn has offered his own hidden thoughts and feelings, and all that remains is for them to let go and fall together.

So they do.

**Author's Note:**

> Lord help me I love these two dysfunctional idiots.
> 
> Also, characters being touch-starved is my freakin' JAM. 
> 
> Just FYI: I hate the whole thing about vampires being able to have sex like regular humans, so I headcanon that the only time a male vampire is able to become physically aroused is if he has very recently consumed blood. It might be stupid, and I have spent way too much time dwelling on something that really doesn't matter, but it makes vampire sex more...plausible? to me (because like _of this story is actually plausible....)_


End file.
